


Worry

by Little Spoon (JaydenNara)



Series: Occasionally Domestic [23]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banshee Lydia Martin, Established Relationship, M/M, Panic Attacks, Protective Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaydenNara/pseuds/Little%20Spoon
Summary: Everything was fine. Absolutely fine. Nothing to worry about. Lydia just found herself standing on the sidewalk in front of her best friend's building... after a three-hour drive from MIT she didn't recall making.Really. Nothing to worry about. Totally fine.





	Worry

When Stiles came home from his afternoon developmental psychopathology class, Lydia Martin was sitting in his apartment rhythmically drumming her perfectly manicured nails against the armrest of his favourite armchair. Stiles sidled into the apartment and slide the loft door closed behind him. The lock clunked into place. Shrugging out of his purple hoodie, he dropped it and his Batman messenger bag beside the door.

“Hey, Lydia,” Stiles greeted cautiously and glanced around the apartment. His boyfriend’s sneakers and leather jacket were missing. “Where’s Derek?”

“Picking up dinner from the cute little bistro on the corner.” Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Your bottle of ketchup and a jar of pickles was... unacceptable.” She stopped drumming her fingers to inspect her nails. “He should be back any minute.”

“Right... but it's Tuesday,” Stiles said as he inched into the main living area and hovered awkwardly beside the couch, afraid to sit down.

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Stiles gave a short painful laugh and rubbed the back of his head, which knocked askew the beanie he’d forgotten he’d been wearing. “It’s date night.”

“Date night,” Lydia repeated. Her eyebrow crept higher.

“Yeah, you know, dinner, movie, walk in the park, and all that jazz,” Stiles said. He scratched his cheek and shifted from one foot to the other, unable to meet Lydia’s judgy glare.

“On a Tuesday?” Lydia said.

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip. “Yes?”

“Oh, for the love of god, Stilinski. Sit down,” Lydia snapped and pointed at the couch.

Stiles leaped over the arm of the loveseat and face-planted on the cushions before he scrambled to sit rigidly on the edge of the seat, hands in his lap.

Lydia pursed her lips. “Much better.”

Stiles managed to sit quietly for all of three seconds before he slouched back into the couch with a giant sigh.

“Why are you here, Lyds?” Stiles asked. “I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you. It’s totally cool for you to drop in, unannounced, two days before midterms... Oh my god.” He flailed, smacking his nose with the back of his hand as he tried to sit up again. “Someone’s dying. Who’s dying? Are you dying? Am I dying?” Stiles paused, eyes wide as he leaned forward and went eerily still. He swallowed. “Is it Derek?” he whispered.

Stiles couldn’t breathe. Not again. He couldn’t watch Derek die again. Last time he’d had to leave. Derek made him leave. He couldn’t. Not again. Not again. Not again. His vision swam, and he groped for the arm of the couch to help him stand up, but he felt lightheaded and woozy. A small, but strong hand caught his wrist and dragged him back down onto the couch.

“Stiles, shut up and calm down!” Lydia said, and Stiles realized he’d been repeating the same two words over and over again. She held one of his hands tightly and forced him to look at her. Her palm was warm against his cheek. “I need you to breathe. Can you do that? Look at me. Stiles!”

“You’re terrible at this,” Stiles gasped as he struggled to focus the blurred vision of strawberry blonde in front of him. “Like really bad. How are you so bad at this.”

“Maybe because your werewolf boyfriend would rip my throat out if I kissed you again,” Lydia said.

Stiles swayed and closed his eyes, trying to focus on Lydia’s voice. “Wasn’t a good idea the first time.”

Metal screeched in protest as the loft door was nearly ripped off its tracks. It crashed open, and a furious roar echoed through the apartment. Before Stiles could react, a cool breeze ruffled the tips of his hair, and warmth surrounded him as an all too familiar scent tickled his senses.

“Der?” Stiles wheezed.

“I’m here, baby,” Derek murmured with a slight lisp, which made Stiles let out a shaky laugh. “Breathe with me.”

Stiles didn’t need to look to know Derek was wolfed out, fangs, sideburns, no eyebrows, and all, but he let Derek guide him, repositioning his limp limbs like a ragdoll until Stiles’ head rested over Derek’s heart. The steady beat soothed him. The tips of Derek’s claws prickled Stiles’ skin through his t-shirt where Derek’s hand was splayed over Stiles’ chest.

“I don’t want you to die,” Stiles whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Derek promised, nose buried in Stiles’ hair. A total pro, he talked Stiles down as he had many times after vivid nightmares and flashbacks.

Stiles sank further into Derek’s protective embrace, comforted by the gentle rise and fall of Derek’s chest in time with his own breathing. A hand carded through his hair, claws tender and delicate against his skull, and brushed back his bangs.

Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles’ forehead. “Better?” he asked.

Most people would ask if Stiles was okay. Derek never did, and Stiles appreciated it because, after a panic attack, he was anything but okay, which Derek understood and related all too well. Stiles had once woken up to shredded pillows, anguished howls, and a flurry of feathers. Derek had shifted in the middle of the night in some sort of unconscious attempt to protect himself from his nightmares. They stopped buying down pillows after that, and Stiles kept a grooming brush in the bedside drawer.

“Yeah. Thanks, big guy.” Stiles patted Derek on the arm and tilted his head back. Without the presence of Derek’s eyebrows, Stiles was having difficulty reading his boyfriend’s expression. He absentmindedly pet Derek’s sideburns until Derek’s beta shift melted away, and then cupped Derek’s cheek, rubbing his thumb against the day-old scruff he found super sexy.

“Was backflipping over the couch absolutely necessary?” Lydia interrupted.

Stiles jumped and twisted around to stare at Lydia perched primly on the edge of her seat, ankles crossed and tucked to the side. She flipped her slightly ruffled hair over her shoulder and sniffed as if insulted he’d forgotten that she was there. Everything was fine. Lydia just decided to pop in... from Massachusetts.

“Ha. Are you kidding? Derek is the king of unnecessary flips and random parkour,” he joked, but his voice trembled. A slight squeeze of arms around his middle said Derek hadn’t missed it.

Lydia hummed. “Where’s the food?” she asked and glanced around again, and wrinkled her nose in distaste at their interior decorating skills. They tended to go for function and comfort over, well, anything.

“What was that, big guy?” Stiles yawned when Derek mumbled something too low for Stiles’ human ears to pick up, and he was sitting on the werewolf’s lap. Warm and cozy in his boyfriend’s arms, his eyes were heavy with fatigue. It’d been awhile since he’d had a panic attack, and he’d blissfully forgotten how exhausting they were.

“I dropped it downstairs,” Derek said through gritted teeth. Lydia pursed her lips, and a low growl rumbled in Derek’s chest under Stiles’ ear.“Stiles is my priority, not your disdain for gas station snacks and fast food. You should have eaten on the road if you were so hungry.”

“Some of us don’t have the ability to recover from food poisoning while still chewing,” Lydia snapped.

Snickering, Stiles drifted off to the dulcet tones bickering with a smile on his face. “Missed you, Lyds,” he mumbled, and their snappish chatter faded away as he drifted off.

The apartment was dark when Stiles fought to resurface from the depths of unconsciousness. He felt floaty. His eyes were heavy and limbs loose. He was curled against a firm body - Derek’s, his sluggish mind supplied as if he’d be able to mistake the earthy musk of his boyfriend for anything else - and tucked under the fleece throw they kept over the back of the couch for when Stiles inevitably got cold.

Stiles tried to latch onto the soft murmur of conversation around him. The scent of Indian roused his senses. Derek must have called in an order. Stiles’ stomach growled, and he groaned, shoving his nose into the crook of Derek’s neck. The conversation stopped. Stiles forced himself to relax, feigning sleep.

“So you hopped in your car and drove four hours because you heard  whispers in your freezer?” Derek said barely above a whisper, and his hand resumed rubbing small soothing circles against Stiles’ back.

Cutlery clattered against a plate and Lydia huffed. “Forgive me for worrying about my best friend.”

“That’s not-” Derek cut himself off with a groan. “You’re sure it was him?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Lydia said indignantly. “Derek...” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, with a hint of something Stiles had never heard from the great Lydia Martin before; sympathy. “He was dying.”

“No.” Derek’s sharpness left no room for argument. His arms tightened to almost painful proportions around Stiles’ torso, trapping Stiles in the blanket burrito Derek had wrapped him in.

“What do you mean, no?” Lydia said. “This is a fact. I may not understand my powers, but they are never wrong.”

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Too few people stood up to Derek. He was all eyebrows and scowls which looked intimidating, but no one ever realized he was just a giant ball of adorable fluffiness goodness on the inside. He also loved that Derek didn’t take shit from the most formidable women Stiles had ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“I’m still alive,” Derek said.

“You came back,” Lydia pointed out. “You evolved, Derek. Stiles... Stiles is going to die.”

Stiles abruptly sat up, eyes so impossibly wide it hurt. “I’m gonna what now?”

**Author's Note:**

> (Now continued in XXX)
> 
> You can stalk me on Tumblr here: [Always the Little Spoon](http://always-the-little-spoon.tumblr.com/)


End file.
